Suffer Little Children Read Free

sister.
    Fidelma grinned mischievously as she took the goblet and raised it.
    â€˜Indeed, it is. But let us drink to better days to come.’
    â€˜An “amen” to that, little sister,’ agreed Colgú.
    Fidelma sipped the wine appreciatively.
    â€œThere is much to talk of, brother,’ she said. ‘Much has happened since we last set eyes on one another. Indeed, I have journeyed to many places: to the island of Colmcille, to the land of the Saxons and even to Rome itself.’ She paused, as she suddenly noticed that there was some quality of pensiveness and anxiety in his eyes. ‘But you have yet to answer my question. Why is there this air of melancholy in the palace?’
    She saw a frown pass across her brother’s brow and paused.
    â€˜You always did have acute observation, little sister,’ he sighed.
    â€˜What is it, Colgú?’
    Colgú hesitated a moment and then grimaced.
    â€˜I am afraid that it was not for a family reunion that you were asked here,’ he confessed gently.
    Fidelma gazed at him, waiting for her brother to elaborate. When he did not, she said quietly: ‘I had not expected that it was. What is the matter?’
    Colgú glanced almost surreptitiously around, as if to make sure that no one was eavesdropping.

    â€˜The king …’he began. ‘King Cathal has succumbed to the Yellow Plague. He is lying in his chamber at death’s door. The physicians do not give him long.’
    Fidelma blinked; yet, deep down, she was not entirely surprised at the news. For two years now the Yellow Plague had spread itself across Europe, devastating the population. Tens of thousands had died from its virulence. It had spared neither lowly peasant, self-satisfied bishop, nor even lofty kings. Only eighteen months ago, when the plague had first arrived in Éireann, the joint High Kings of Ireland, Blathmac and Diarmuid, had both died within days of one another at Tara. A few months ago, Fáelán, the king of Laigin, had died from its ravages. Still the plague raged on unabated. Throughout the land were countless orphaned children, whose mothers and fathers had been carried off by the plague, left helpless and starving. Some members of the Faith, such as the Abbot Ultan of Ardbraccan, had responded by setting up orphanages and fighting the plague, while others, such as Colmán, the chief professor of the Blessed Finnbarr’s college in Cork, had simply taken his fifty pupils and fled to some remote island in an attempt to escape it. Fidelma was well aware of the scourge of the Yellow Plague.
    â€˜Is that why you sent for me?’ she asked. ‘Because our cousin is dying?’
    Colgú shook his head swiftly.
    â€˜King Cathal instructed me to send for you before he succumbed to the fevers of plague. Now that he cannot instruct you, it falls to me to do so.’
    He reached across and took her by the elbow. ‘But first you must rest from your journey. There is time enough for this later. Come, I have ordered your old room to be prepared.’
    Fidelma tried to suppress her sigh of impatience.
    â€˜You know me well enough, brother. You know that I will not rest while there is a mystery to be explained. You keep
goading my imagination. Come, explain what this mystery is and then I will rest.’
    Colgú was about to speak when there came the sound of raised voices beyond the door. There was the noise of a scuffle and Colgú was moving towards the door to enquire what was happening when it burst open and Forbassach of Fearna stood framed in it. He was red-faced and breathing heavily with exertion.
    Behind him, his handsome face scowling in anger, was the young warrior, Cass.
    â€˜Forgive me, my lord. I could not stop him.’
    Colgú stood facing the envoy of the king of Laigin with displeasure on his face.
    â€˜What does this demonstration of bad manners mean, Forbassach? Surely you forget